Wow… I had finished too many CDs, too many documentaries… too much TV.
How much time had passed?
There was this strange feeling—every time I encountered new information, it didn't feel like I was learning something new. It felt like I was remembering.
I didn't understand how to deal with that.
Did that mean… something?
But no matter how I tried to describe it, they all felt like fragments of something forgotten.
"Memory."
I turned around to look at the person who had interpreted me.
I was overwhelmed with joy when I saw a familiar face.
Messenger of God… no… Henry.
Finally, I had thousands of questions.
"I see that you let go of your old belief."
I put my hand on my forehead, covering my eyes for a second before I spoke.
"I didn't have a choice… Anyway, I have a million questions."
"Can't you just ask the one-million-dollar question instead?"
"You mean the billion-dollar one."
I could see exhaustion take over his face, like this was about to be a long night.
"First—what did you learn?"
"A lot… actually."
I hesitated, then continued.
"And I want to thank you—for the food, and the phone you gave me later. After learn—no, remembering—I think remembering is the best term. I got to surf the internet. I was confused about what I should do… and suddenly, everything made sense.
And the posts I used to tell everyone, left and right—they found me again. And I realized something… I kept going after my mother died because of a story I made up. A story that became my existence. A made-up story.
Then I cracked—right there. And it hit me: my mother died. I cried for a bit… and I felt lighter. My lungs could take in more air. Breathing wasn't as painful.
I felt alive."
"Good for you," he said. "Have you played with those four consoles?"
I turned my head toward the TV on the other side of the room. The four consoles were still on the ground, surrounded by a huge mess.
"I'm sorry about the mess… but when I saw them, I got curious. So I searched how to start them—and again, I suddenly knew how.
I played with the first two, then the 360 X, then the 4, and lastly the 5. The first time I put a CD in, I was confused about how it worked. I tried three times before the first game finally played. I was so hyped when it turned on."
"And what was the best thing you played?"
"Well… my favorite was Nemo, because it was the only one where I saw the ending. Ratatouille was also good. Ben 10. God of War…"
I stopped, thinking, then walked toward the CD collection, going through them one by one.
"I liked this WWE—especially 2010. If I completed the story, I unlocked The Rock character, or the green and red ones. Or if I used cheat codes, I unlocked hidden things. In 2011, it became an open area you could explore.
Then GTA: San Andreas… I didn't get to use it much, but if I went to a specific place, I could play multiplayer. But I didn't have anyone to play with.
Crash is one of my favorites—but in Twinsanity, I got stuck on one level and couldn't finish it, so I moved to another console.
The 360 X… everything was better. Better graphics, better gameplay. It was like a PC. I downloaded games from the internet, transferred them to a USB, then to the console. It was a really different experience.
I liked Call of Duty: MW3 more than Black Ops 1. 2K14 was also one of my favorites—the showcase made me love so many wrestler figures."
"OK, OK… I know," he interrupted.
Then he stopped, staring at me like he was searching for something. He sighed.
"OK. You can say everything about console 4—but that's it. We have something important to discuss."
"No, it's fine. I think what comes next… a lot of people already know."
I paused.
"I was just over-hyped at first. Like with console 2—it had the best Spider-Man game ever, Ultimate Spider-Man. But after playing on 4 and 5… and then going back to the old ones… the graphics weren't the same. The gameplay wasn't the same.
My memory of the games was better than reality. It's like my eyes adapted to a certain level—once I go higher, I can't really go back."
"David, let's have the talk you've been waiting for. After all, you don't know how the date inside the village is one thing… while the rest of the world lives on an entirely different timeline."
I didn't know what to expect, but my smile faded.
That need for information—I had pushed it deep into my mind, almost forgot about it. I didn't expect that all of this wasn't real. I couldn't believe I had been talking to myself.
I couldn't believe I spent five years trying to comprehend a tsunami of information—too big to hold.
And still… everything felt foggy.
Like I was…
I was…
In an illusion.